You knew, of course. You knew that you didn't have as much time as anybody else. Even before you signed up with the mutant cat, you knew it, deep in your bones, that Kaneda Madoka would not be long in this mortal coil. She would not have enough time to do everything she wanted - but it would be enough time - barely - to do what she needed.

And this particular mission, one you had to strong-arm the little alien bastard to authorize, is a big fat number on your bucket list.

Going into Varrigan City - a lawless shithole full of rapists, murderers, monsters, augmented humans and rogue magical girls - to save a kidnapped rookie that you haven't even talked to for more than a few minutes.

Alone, without any backup, and with only your own wits at your disposal.

Into fucking hell itself, just to save another girl you barely even know.

The trip here was a rough one, but you're getting better at choking down the natural instinct to empty your breakfast into the inside of your helmet's faceplate. Soon you'll be able to open your visor just in time, too.

Kyuubey's long range teleporter was still in its experimental stages, and designed more for his use than Magical Girls - but it did its job well enough in getting you to where you wanted. You had to do the rest of the work halfway - meaning you had to tear yourself back out of the hell behind reality - but it worked. That's what mattered.

Besides, you're not much for diving out of airplanes and depending on a big poofy bag of nylon to slow your terminal dive just enough that you don't end up a red paste when you gently slam into the ground. You take risks, sure, but you're not fucking insane.

After you've finished cleaning the inside of your helmet and disinfecting it to be sure - it's here you look around. You're in Varrigan City, alright. Downtown, from the looks of it - once a bustling commercial area, now turned into a hideout for gangs and fugitives looking to avoid the other, more powerful and more well-armed kill-gangs roaming around.

No place for a Magical Girl, but then again, you're not exactly the normal kind, are you?

It's here that the word [CODEC] lights up on your visor display, at the very center of your vision. You grumble at this - you calibrated that to show up somewhere less obstructive, dammit. But you may as well check in, right?

[]Answer the call where you are. No one seems to be around anyway.[]Duck into a convenient alley first before doing so. Can't be too careful.

>>28265112[X]CLIMB onto a convenient ROOFTOP before doing so. Can't be too careful. It'll also give you a good view of the area>2013>Ducking into alleyways in notDetroitI seriously hope you guys don't do this.

[x]Duck into a convenient alley first before doing so. Can't be too careful.>you're not much for diving out of airplanes and depending on a big poofy bag of nylon to slow your terminal dive just enough that you don't end up a red paste when you gently slam into the ground. You take risks, sure, but you're not fucking insane.>use teleporter instead

>>28265548BIO: A superpowered Callidus that joined the Ninth Officio recently. The circumstances surrounding her arrival are kind of sketchy, and nobody really seems to know where she came from. I heard she started pushing her own agenda from the moment she showed up, though…but maybe it’s for the best? Agendas don’t always have to be creepy and evil, right?ABILITY: Standard Culexus ability – anti-magic – although Malal is super strong, even for a Culexus.

With your codec still chiming and begging for attention, you make to duck into one of the alleyways near you - but your common sense pricks at you enough that you decide against it. You're in Varrigan City, remember? A place ten times worse than fucking Roanapur, and you nearly died trying to get out of that place. Sure, you had fun doing it, but it's not somewhere you'd whittle down what's left of your ever-shrinking lifespan.

You instead find a building with a rooftop you can access. One shows up easily enough after a few moment's searching, and you clamber up the rusting fire escape ladder jutting out from its side.

A few more moments of grunting and very nearly shitting in your suit when one of the rungs gave way in your gloved hands, and you finally manage to get topside. You sneak a glance down at the city from your raised perspective - it's only two floors up - but it gives you enough of a preview of the kind of legwork you'll be making.

...Huh. Varrigan City isn't that pretty of a place, but it looks even shittier from up high.

Your codec's still whining and beeping, and you finally hunker down to answer it. You blink at the flashing rectangle, and it magnifies into a larger window that shifts to the side, occupying the right side of your vision. A small bar below it showing just how strong the signal is - and it's high enough to make a clear connection at the moment.

The square flickers, flashes, before finally showing the face of a pouting young woman, her long brown hair tied back with some sort of frilly red ribbon. She's staring at you like she wants to hate you to death, and you know she means it.

"Uuu..." The girl puffs up her cheeks at this, before exploding in a veritable blast of hate and fury.

"Malal!" She shrieks your name here, making you wince at the volume. "Why you no answer immediately?! Had been waiting for more than five minute, FIVE!" Her accent, heavy to the point of impenetrable, makes no mystery of where she came from, even if she goes around dressed like a fucking shrine maiden half the time. "I not doing this for health, you know! Xiaomei Baocun not Malal's little stupid mei mei to be ignored!"

Alright, alright. Sheesh. You just needed to get to a safe place to answer her call.

"Well Ma-RAR did not have to go in filthy criminal asshole of world in first place, right?" Oh, shit. She's still angry. She doesn't say your name like that unless she's really angry. "Who in right mind go into Varrigan City just to rescue one little magical girl? She become wife to hundred gang members already! Forget her! Come, Xiaomei send evac now, okay? Okay?"

...You talked about this. No. You need to save her. It's important. That's why you asked for help too. You even refused Kyuubey's own support network, here - because you wanted this to be on your own dime, your own elbow grease. And of course, the network of friends you've made under the table.

"...Uuuugh. Wo de ma he ta de feng kuang de wai sheng dou..." Xiaomei lets out an exasperated groan, before burying her face in her hands. "This is stupid mission, Malal. Hope you know that." She shakes her head. "Pwah, well. If Malal say it is important, then important. I am support, so ask anything you need now." She grumbles here. "Stupid Malal."

Right. Fine.

[]Give me a refresher on my main objective.[]Who's my contact, and where can I find her?[]Ask about the part of the city you're in.[]Other.

>>28266222From what I understood she`s been there for a year for no reason. Either we should make her join or let her go.

>>28266252Yeah, but that is just a theory. We never bothered asking whe she is there in the first place? Is she a prisnoer? Does she work with us together? Why didnt we force her to make a contract with Coobie? And if not, why do we keep her there all the time?

>>28266268>Either we should make her join or let her go.That's the problem, she DID join. She turned with the rest of Ahriman's loyalists, then welched on them when captured.She cannot be trusted at all.

>>28266299She's not from the first, she's from the third, who signed over his whole officio after Kharn, Malal, and Murderface accidentally 100 magical girls, along with Ahriman.You guys really need to pay attention.

>>28266325Not really. The first only takes the best of the best, like Mami+ and Kharn+ best. It's no wonder that they wouldn't take her.

>>28266334>>28266338Every single detail about Haruka and her sister was introduced in the last 5~ threads. I'm not calling you out about not knowing what happened at thread 16, I'm talking about some REALLY fucking recent information.

She was one of those who never joined up with us, but decided otherwise after we did horrible shit to her and ratted out on her friends.

This still doesnt explain why we still keep her, other than her being an Oracle or why she is still in the silent room of she works together with us. Or we we still didnt make her join us even if my force. And this is why I asked, no reason for you act like a huge cunt.

"Ah, see? Using teleport machine make you forget! Cannot even remember main objective, how can be Warmaster if like that?" The raven-haired girl smirks at you. "But is okay, Xiaomei help little mei mei Malal remember. Now, where is paper...so much paperwork, have to look really hard!" She makes a show of shuffling the sheaf of papers in her hand, as if trying to annoy you - but her smirk soon turns into an expression of utter panic. "W-wait, is not here?! But I had it in hand only few minute ago! What the hell?!"

"Wait, wait, I have it here...ah! There! See, I have it in hand! Hahaha!" She waves a paper at you. "Did Malal piss in suit because of fear? You did, right?"

No. Come on, you don't have all day--

"Ah, so impatient! Okay, here we are!" Another window comes up on your HUD, this time displaying a closeup of a scared young woman with long black hair and large eyes bloodshot from too little sleep. "Main objective! Valnikov Ekaterina! Fresh Vindicare recruit from Russia! Suddenly did not turn up for training a few months back, suspected kidnapped. Tenth Officio was suspected, but there was no evidence. Declared deceased one month ago, so all search attempts formally stopped then. But of course, some annoying pink-hair idiot not following that, and tracked her down into Varrigan City through UN CON FIRMED reports." Xiaomei stresses the word enough that her harsh accent dismembers the word into three bleeding, twitching syllables. "You know what that mean, right? Is chance she is not here?"

"Aiyah, I do not care!" Xiaomei snaps. "Main objective of STUPID mission is to recover Valnikov Ekaterina and make way to Varrigan City Tower for extraction with Fulton surface-to-air recovery system. Estimated mission time is four hours, so you need to be very quick, Malal, or else will have to swim back home."

Right. Four hours. You remember.

"Good. Now, you know contact, right? Do you need Xiaomei to remind you?"

Yeah, that'd be good.

"Fine...okay." Ekaterina's portrait vanishes, replaced now by a smiling portrait of a pale-skinned girl with long hair so blonde it's almost white, and what appears to be...suture marks on her cheeks, and on her forehead. There are two disc-shaped things sticking out on the sides of her head. "Contact! Strange foreigner girl, I am thinking half-Japanese but looks German, I think. Professor Madaraki The Second. Venenum, Thirteenth Officio. Do not know what she is doing off their little boat, but I am thinking selling stimpacks to gangs here. Last seen in Asian Town, Great Wall Street, I think, ten kilometers east from current position."

Ten clicks? Great. What are your options in getting there?

"Steal car or motorcycle, go down Red Line Highway. A bit safer, but there is motorcycle gangs around. Other choice is go to Central Station, take train directly. Much quicker, but have to go through long way to get to it, plus more locals to encounter." It's here that she shakes her head. "Is stupid no matter where you go, but train station at least much faster."

Right. You'll think about it, then.

"Anything else you want ask?" Despite her obvious reluctance, it seems that Xiaomei's getting into the role of your support. "If have something, then ask now. Signal not guaranteed to always be there for communication, you know."

"Alright, she say she have enough, so enough. No need to help more than ask. No need to go extra mile, because Malal know what Malal do. Right?" Dear god this girl loves to grumble. "Okay. Synchronize watches, it is now 10:32:44 exactly. Evac in four hours, okay? So do not spend too much time playing around."

Right, right. You'll be fine. Four hours is a lot of time, anyway, and you're used to working alone. You'll find Valnikov before too long and be out of here before anyone even knows you were here.

Xiaomei narrows her eyes at you. "Malal, you forget about the Eighth, right? Worry about gangs, worry about bad girls, but also worry about other Officios in there. Girls from the Eighth are crazy, crazier than you. And they do not like it if they find strange girl from Ninth suddenly appearing in their territory without permit or papers. You know what they do? They KILL your ass! Eat your intestines like noodle!"

Ah, they're not that bad. No one is that bad.

"Hah! Stupid! Do not cry to Xiaomei if you get your intestines eaten! Will not fly and rescue you this time!"

Your support ends the call with a huff and a beep, your HUD blanking out and giving you an uninterrupted view of the city before you. You shake your head, before getting up from your crouch and start to make your way back down on the street. Might as well get started. Ten fucking kilometers...that's a whole lot of legwork--

"Well, well. What do we have here?" You hear a rough, nasal voice bark from behind you, and you turn to see a musclebound punk wearing camo pants, a tank top and the most ridiculous mohawk you've ever seen. The kind with a physics-defying hole in it. "You're not from around here, are ya, kid?"

"Looks like one of Rin-Rin's boytoys," Another punk huffs from behind you - one of what looks to be a small gang melting from the alleways' shadows, dragging chains and bats and pipes behind them. "No...wait. Not a boytoy. I can smell her cunt from here." It's then that the punk laughs, loud and long, holding his massive round belly. "Boys, we've got a sparklie here, right in the flesh! And looks like she's fresh, too!"

...What? Your suit's sealed. How can he...ugh. Absolutely disgusting.

"For real?" The first punk's bulbous, yellowing eyes go wide, and his rubbery lips stretch to reveal blackened teeth in a horrible rictus of a grin. "Rin-Rin charges way too fucking much for her girls at the Bistro...and it's been a while since we managed to hunt one down."

He licks his teeth, the purple veiny appendage doing nothing to scrape off the strata of plaque covering the skewed bits of enamel embedded in his bleeding gums. "This one's a bit skinny, though, but I'll take it." The punk steps forward, crunching one thick-fingered fist into another, cracking his knuckles in one popping cacophony. "I'll share with you guys when I'm done!"

Oh, he's going to SHARE. That's nice. Yeah. This one's mother raised him right. You shake your head here, before reaching behind you to unclip your crowbar from its magnetic lock on your back.

...Wait. Maybe you don't need to kill people to get what you want? Perhaps you can try to communicate.

Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Communication's good. You should try it once every now and then.

"Why don't you take your pretty helmet off and let us see you, love?" The first punk - obviously the leader - says, towering over you. The great lumbering idiot's probably two fucking meters of pure beefy asshole.

[]Nope. Crowbar to the face.[]Try to communicate. "Any of you guys want to lend me a motorcycle?"[]Make the guy's head explode. That's always fun.

>>28266990>[X]Nope. Crowbar to the face.I'd say yeah. No need to let anyone know - because there is no doubt SOMEONE watching - that we're a Culexus here. Also, pretty sure the Eighth don't have the suits yet. We're just a weirdo in a biker suit for the moment.

Hoodlums. Punks. Street trash. You know his sort - idiots who got into the wrong side of the law, either for fun, for profit, or a simple-minded yet violent dislike of authority in general. People who thought that respect isn't automatically deserved if you have a badge and a gun.

You don't hate them. Most of your best friends were the same. Hell, you've been one nearly all your life, going full time when you dropped out of middle school and worked as a runner for one of the small-time Yakuza in Mitakihara.

They treated you like a kid, then. No respect at all, worth little more than a glance. You didn't get through a single day without being threatened of murder, or rape, or both at the same time.

It was only when they found out you were handy with a crowbar - as well as killing the Magical Girl sent by a rival family to kill the overboss you were working for - that you earned their respect, and the rank of enforcer. They started seeing you less as a weedy little shit with pink hair and more of someone they needed to look out for. They even started calling you Kaneda-san, and taught you all you needed to know.

They even became your family for a time. The family you never had.

These, though? These punks didn't have the same kind of respect the folks back home did. Yes, it was a black kind of respect, the sort only earned when you prove that you can slit someone's throat and watch as the light goes out of their eyes - but it was respect all the same. Something like that is wasted on scum like these.

Most especially the one in front, looking down at you like you're a piece of meat.

"Oh, what's she going to do, now?" Mohawk crows loudly as you reach behind you, pulling your crowbar free from its maglock with a tug. "Is she gonna hit me with her little crowbar, here? Ooh, this is right scary, lads!" The peanut gallery hollers with laughter. "Look, she's gonna wave it like a wand, gonna sparkle me to death with it--"

"Kneecap." You tenderly whisper into the vox inside your helmet, the outward-facing speakers turning it into a murderer's hiss.

"Eh?" Mohawk raises an eyebrow. "Did she just say--"

One swing. Right-handed. Textbook perfect diagonal, downward. The part of it where it curves into its two-pronged hook crunching hard into meat, into bone. The shock of the impact slams up your wrist, bounces off your elbow and up your shoulder, along with the tactile sensation of something disintegrating under the force of you strike.

A wet, juicy crunch, and something tears from the punk's knee, flying a short distance before landing on the ground with a soggy slap.

Silence. Then--

"KNEEECAAAAP! MY FUCKING KNEECAAAAAP!" Mohawk howls, his bloodshot eyes bugging out, all color draining from his face as he screams - and he falls back on his ruined leg, kneeling down on his unshattered one. His huge meaty fists trying to clamp down on the bleeding, ragged hole that had been a working, load-bearing joint. "YOU BITCH, LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY--"

Second wing. Backhand. Hook first. There's no crunch this time, no sensation of any bones breaking - but instead the soft resistance of meat and skin and cartilage giving way, tearing off. The punk howls again, louder this time.

"FAAACE! MY FACE! OH GOD, MY FACE!"

He falls to the ground, bloody hands now covering the bloody mask he's screaming through.

Insultingly, none of his mates come to his rescue. Not even the guy who outed you as a sparklie. You snort at this - if it'd been any of your family back home, they'd have gutted you even before you made your first move. They'd have torn you apart even before you could have pulled your crowbar free from its maglock.

These idiots just watched you beat the shit out of their leader.

Shameful. Just shameful.

What do you do now?

[]Finish Mohawk off. Put him out of his misery. Then ask for a vehicle.[]Leave him. Ask politely for a bike, or directions at least.

>>28267526[x]Finish Mohawk off. Put him out of his misery. Then ask for a vehicle.[x]"Now there`s TWO of you left and I just need ONE Motorbike, who the lucky one who will get to survive by telling me where I can get a bike?"

>>28267561Apparently, the yakuza she worked for were even more hardcore.

>You snort at this - if it'd been any of your family back home, they'd have gutted you even before you made your first move. They'd have torn you apart even before you could have pulled your crowbar free from its maglock.

>>28267526>[]Leave him. Ask politely for a bike, or directions at least.pull a idol pose and ask sweetly for them to give you the bike. Let the vox speaker turn it into something that will haunt their nightmares

They're all staring at you, slackjawed, wide-eyed, faces pale like they've seen a ghost. Weapons hanging useless in their hands, when they should already be trying to kill you with them.

Deplorable. Absolutely disgusting. This is what they've been reduced to.

You give your head a brief shake, before moving toward Mohawk, the musclebound brute now trying to crawl away from you, to safety. You plant one steel-toed boot down the back of his head, pressing his face into the ground, making him kiss dirt - and he struggles wildly here, thick-fingered hands scrabbling at your leg, his cries muffled and pathetic. You press down just the slightest bit - and blood starts to pool where his face meets the asphalt.

No one? No one's going to even challenge you?

You let out a snort, and it's then that you bring down the crowbar, hook first, into the top of Mohawk's skull - both your gloved hands gripping the prising end for the most amount of leverage. There's a crack, followed by a liquid pop of released pressure - and the briny stink of exposed brain matter reaches even through your helmet's air filters.

The hoodlum under your foot shivers here, tiny little spasms of misfiring nerves upon death. He shivers one last time as you jerk your crowbar free. You wipe the hook clean on his trousers, still shaking your head, and it's here that you turn to face the rest of his gang.

"Anyone feel charitable enough to lend me their motorcycle?" You say as politely and as cheerfully as you can - the vox spitting out your words in a snarl.

You shrug, here. "Still waiting for the motorcycle. Need it for where I'm going." You make to replace your crowbar back onto its maglock, and the entire gang - the ENTIRE GANG surrounding you - flinches. "Well? I don't have all day."

Silence. And then... "...We don't have any motorcycles," One of them volunteers, a short guy with too many piercings. "We're not big enough for those. But we did see two sparklies riding one. A pretty one, white with big fat wheels and nitro boosters. We saw them back on the other side of Downtown."

Other magical girls, huh? Well. Could be rogues, having fun shooting non-magical fish in a Varrigan City-shaped barrel. You won't feel too bad in stealing their ride if that's the case.

"I can show you where we saw them last, if you want." Piercings offers. "Just, uh...don't kill us like you did Zeed. We're just tryin' to survive, here."

How do you respond?

[]Sure. Lead the way.[]What do these two sparklies look like?[]...No thanks. Just point me towards the train station. I'll find my way there myself

>>28268180I swear I saw one of these on the episode of Futurama where Fry got frozen again and thought he was stuck in another distant future in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.It turned out it was just Detroit

"We didn't get a really clear look at 'em, since they were moving really fast and 'all, but..." Piercings glances towards the corpse that had been Zeed, before shaking his head.

"One of them had, like, scars all over her face, man. Like she'd been sucking face with a lawnmower, or somethin'. The other one had these crazy knives on her belt, she had like six of them, and she also had this weird checkered scarf...black and white, you know, like on that flag when someone wins a race?"

Yeah, you know what checkered stuff looks like. ...The second girl doesn't ring a bell, but the one with the scars...maybe. But she shouldn't even be here. She's not the sort to slum it up in this shithole - it's not her style, and definitely not her kind of place.

Whatever it is, you need a motorcycle. You can probably leg it to the train station, but you run the risk of attracting too much attention, especially with all the gangers coming out of the woodwork. Red Line Highway's the long, scenic route, but you'll be going quickly enough that it won't matter who notices you.

What do you decide?

[]Follow Piercings to the motorcycle. (Red Line Highway)[]Refuse, and ask for directions to Central Station instead. (Train)

>>28268241...NOPE. THEM BE RABBITS. NOPE. Then again, Malal DID run into them... OR maybe she met 'em later. ... Fukken Continuity.... To REd Line, or to train.One involves Magical Girl combat (unless we manage to reason with them), the other involves many, many, MANY idiots to waste our time......[X]REDLINE TYME.

You tell Piercings to lead you to the motorcycle, and he's only too glad to lead you away from the rest of the gang.

Only watch-wearing dildos take the train, after all. And from your own personal experience, there's a lot that can go wrong with public transportation. Sure, the Red Line Highway's not all that safe, but at least you can handle anything that comes at you there on your own terms. In a train, you're all but trapped inside a moving metal shell until it either comes to a stop or explodes.

Piercings leads you deeper into Varrigan City's downtown area, the punk wisely using back alleys and connecting passages to slip past the main roads and streets. Not exactly the most direct route, but it keeps him - and you, more importantly - out of sight of the gangs currently infesting those main junctions. And good thing, too - the lot choking the streets look like they're gearing up for a war, bandoliers of ammo draped onto chests, hands tightly clenched around guns, fingers stroking triggers.

You ask the punk leading you up a building rooftop about it. What's the occasion?

"Dunno, we never stay too long in this part of town." Piercings whispers back. "We're almost there. Keep your head down, those folks love a moving target, and love practicing their shooting even more."

You shake your head at this, and continue following him - until he finally stops at what looks to be the more run-down part of Downtown Varrigan City. The slums, where houses are built from corrugated steel sheets and wood and cardboard and whatever else anyone can get their hands on. You spot a few children peeking out from windows and behind half-open doors, only to be pulled away by hasty parents.

It's...it's a giant white beast of a motorcycle, with orange and red highlights. Its tires fat and oversized, to accommodate its hulking frame. But despite how big it is, how unwieldly it looks, you know that it can turn on a dime if the rider wants it to. And you know how absurdly fast it can be.

You know, because you've ridden in it before. Hell, you've driven it before, when you had to drag its owner out of an assassination mission gone bad, with blood leaking out of three different holes on her back and three squads of magical girls at your tail. Each one eager to take the considerable bounties off your heads.

Schpeltiger. Its name is Schpeltiger. And Schpeltiger being here means SHE's here too. But what the fuck is she doing here?

You turn back towards Piercings, to ask once more about the people he saw riding the motorcycle - only to find that he's gone. Must have run off, or something.

She won't mind if you take it for a spin. It's always been like that with the girl - sure, she's crazier than a pack of nuts, but she's always been great when you need something from her. She'd pull off her own underwear and give it to you if you asked for it. An unrelenting kindness and warmth, to match just how batshit insane she really is.

You approach Schpeltiger, and carefully pat its dash. You throw your leg over it, and tap its control panel touchscreen. Nicole had you jury-rig it with a touchscreen starter, just in case she lost her keys and needed Schpeltiger to get her someplace fast. She made you change the password, sure, but she didn't say anything about you setting your own emergency password. And this is an emergency.

"Put your hands up and get off the fucking bike." A voice rings out behind you, cold, sombre, and dead serious. At the same time, you feel the point of a knife poke at the leather above your suit's gorget. "No funny stuff, or I cut your throat open. Understand?" American, too. Just a slight accent, but it's there. Female, too.

But it's not her. Not Nicole. A Magical Girl, definitely - but it's not her at all.

What do you do?

[]Do as she says for now. Humor the American.[]Ask her where Nicole Touchdown is.

>>28268939[x]Ask her where Nicole Touchdown is. We're here to borrow her bike; she knows us. Well fuck. So much for doing this without the Eighth finding out we're here. Good job on blowing our cover, everyone.

>>28269179>I (usually) like to see shit get worse before they get better, Sure we know that we rescue Kharn, and Malal gets out alive. But failures here can mean lasting consequences and not getting or losing things we might have gotten otherwise.

It's less that she's pushed, and more that she's kind of integral to both the story and Chiaki's past. I get the feeling there's a damned good reason she keeps showing up, and that's why I tend to advocate not antagonizing her way too overly much.

"What? Who?" The voice, already menacingly tight with menace despite being flat and deadpan, gets a rather dangerous edge as soon as you mention that girl's name. "How'd you know that name? And what's with the Japanese accent?" It's then that you feel her grab at your suit's collar, pulling you roughly out of Schpeltiger's seat. "And I fucking told you to get off the fucking bike, bitch!"

You could've broken out of her grasp and broken her arm in three different places, but you don't - you instead let her do what she wanted, only moving to steady yourself from the rough treatment and save yourself from a faceful of asphalt.

"Now, hands up, and tell me how the fuck do you know Nico." It's here, then, that you see the Magical Girl that's put herself in between you and Schpeltiger. ...Scrawny, just like you, with a costume that's pretty much just a long salmon-pink jacket ending just below the waist, with checkered leggings and a checkered scarf. Two bandoliers of knives, three each, hang from a harness of sorts around her waist and hips. But you don't notice these much as you notice her eyes - dull, unpolished copper that looks like they've seen too much for her age. This, combined with rather deep eyebags, a mouth pressed hard into a frown and disheveled, shoulder-length dark brown hair - makes for the most tired-looking Magical Girl you've ever seen. She looks like she died and forgot to lie down.

And yet, she's young. Probably younger than you, at that.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, Japan." She steps forward, and it's here that you realize she's been pointing one of her knives at you. ...No, it's not just a knife, it's a fucking kitchen knife!

Right, okay, fun's over. You draw the line at getting cutlery being pointed at you like that.

One more time, and then I'm going to stab you. How the fuck do you know Nicoblaghaaghagh." And just like that, you make the threatening American Magical Girl spill her breakfast down the front of her cute costume, the vomit flooding past the hand she tried to clamp over her mouth with.

Hah. Works every time, and never gets old.

"Kaneda?!"

You blink at this, and snap your gaze to whoever just shouted your family name. What meets your gaze is a familiar and friendly face - one hidden underneath a series of cruel scars.

"Kaneda! It's you, right?" Nicole Touchdown grins, stepping forward, the activated beam saber in her hand turning off and disappearing up her jacket's sleeve. Her long blonde ponytail swishing behind her with every step she took. "Aw, man, you're still short! I thought you were gonna wish for a few more inches, at least, ya little runt! Or some boobs at the very least!"

You'll admit the thought crossed your mind, you reply dryly.

"Hah! Well, I ain't gonna pry further, I hate hearing about you selling out to those alien fuckers." Nicole waves a gloved hand. "What are you doin' here, anyway? This is a long way from Japan, and--" It's here that she sees Wendy, still trying to stop her sudden case of bulimia. "Hey, Wendy! What're you -- eww! What's going on?" She turns to you. "Kaneda, what's happening to Wendy? Why's she blowing chunks like it's a hobby?"

You did that. Unfortunate reflex; it happens when you get sharp stuff pointed at you.

"Fuck...you..." Wendy says weakly, before doubling over once more.

"Well, stop it! It's gross!" She makes a face, here, before stopping and turning to look at you. "...Wait. You wished for VOMIT powers?" Nicole's eyes go wide at you. "You're forgiven. I forgive you for EVERYTHING."

Hah! Well, it's not really VOMIT powers, but--

She looks back at Wendy, still in awe, before turning back to you with stars in her eyes. "...Do it to me! I wanna see what it feels like!"

>>28269611>[x] It's a super secret sparkly mission. Search for and retrieve a target. Can't talk much, got a tight schedule and need to get to my contact fast. hence why borrowing the bike. May I? You can get it back a few hours later.

>>28269577>>28268349>>28269611>And just like that, you make the threatening American Magical Girl spill her breakfast down the front of her cute costume, the vomit flooding past the hand she tried to clamp over her mouth with.

Despite your faceplate, you can't help but grin. It...it feels good to have Nicole joke with you around again. When you called her up to tell you about how your sparkly-murdering days with her as a fellow assassin is over - with you effectively joining the opposing team - she swore up and down that she would find you and kill you, and told you how much she hated you. All while crying like a big, angry baby with its face all cut up.

She never returned your calls, your messages, or even your direct messages on Chirpee. Her hating you...you'll freely admit it, it made you doubt if you were in fact doing the right thing. Then you remembered what your own reflection told you. The one with yellow eyes, that always appeared in your dreams. That the right thing will always be the most painful thing to do.

Anyway, you tell Nicole that it IS indeed a super secret sparkly mission. One with a four-hour time limit, no less. But you're only borrowing it - there's an important distinction, there. And sure, any other bike would've done, but how could you even resist Schpeltiger?

Nicole nods at you, here, seemingly accepting your explanation with the right amount of gravitas. "Well, I really can't blame you there, can I? This is a seriously good-looking piece of hardware you helped me build." She pets Schpeltiger's windshield affectionately, like how one would lovingly pet a cherished animal. "I even make sure to maintain her weekly, just like you always told me to. Nitro tanks are fresh too, just replaced them yesterday! Full charge and everything!"

Full charge? Sweet.

"And if my good friend Kaneda's looking to borrow, hell, I'd hand over the keys in a heartbeat!" She jangles the keys to Schpeltiger in front of you. "But...you're not my bestest friend Kaneda anymore, right? You're Malal now, of the...what's the number again? Eighth? Tenth?"

You shake your head here. Nicole's talking about your masks - the latex animal masks you used to wear whenever you and her went up against yakuza, against the mafia, and the magical girls that worked for them. Jones was your favorite, a crocodile mask with an oversized snout. Tony was Nicole's own mask that she gave you for your birthday - a tiger mask that's had so much blood splashed on it that some of the stains had become permanent.

"Figured not. No sparkly deserves to wear them." It's here that she turns away from you, wiping at her eyes. "Dammit, I promised myself I wouldn't turn soap opera on you like this. Fuck's sake, Kaneda. Why?"

You told her already. A thousand times, over the phone. You need to do this.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Some kind of mission that you need to do." She sniffs here, before smiling again. "Well, I was the one who kept praying at Church that you'd find something to keep yourself busy, right? Guess I got what I prayed for." It's here that she tosses you her keys. "Park her somewhere safe when you're done, and put the keys in the lock box under the seat. I'll have Jade pick her up."

You catch her keys in midair, stunned.

"I know I can't see your face through that stupid visor of yours, but I know you." The blonde grins this time, her scars moving along with the gesture, and despite how gruesome they are they serve to make her look...well, prettier. There's no other word for it. "Go on, before I change my mind and kill you for being a sparkly." She sniffs, here. "God damn sparklies, can't stand them."

You throw your leg over Schpeltiger and start her up. The beast roars to life underneath you. What about Wendy, though? She's a sparkly. You look at the stricken girl, and you see her now working to clean the vomit off of her costume, some color already having returned to her face.

"Ah, we won't need it much." The blonde shakes her head. "I figure Wendy and I'll have more fun using the train. We're not on a time limit, and we're just sightseeing." It's here that she shrugs. "Besides, you and public transportation? Not happening."

...Well, if she's sure. You thank her for the help, and make to gun Schpeltiger, when she calls you back. "Kaneda!"

Yeah? You turn back towards her.

"Kill a sparkly for me, will ya?"

You chuckle at this, before giving her a nod. Sure. You nod at Wendy, too. Got to say goodbye to Vomit-tan.

"W-what..?" Wendy's eyes go wide. "What did you just call me--"

You finally gun Schpeltiger's throttle, its engine drowning out the rest of her protests, and with that you leave your best friend and her sparkly, vomity girlfriend.

Heading to Red Line Highway. To Asian Town.

On a mission to rescue someone from this shithole city, so she can save the world right after. Or at least help doing so.

"Stabilized," a second voice replied. "She should be waking up any second now."

"Great, great," the first voice paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Thanks for doing this, Red. It... It really means a lot."

"Ain't no sweat for Snowflake. Gotta keep the old lady's girl alive, after all."

"You look pretty swell in that outfit, by the way."

"Oh for fuck's-"

Odette groaned. An all too familiar tingle ran through her body - the feeling of freshly regenerated tissue and organs. It felt as though she'd just gotten the best sleep of her life. Her mind was refreshed, her body felt new. It was really as much as she could have asked for, given the past week. Her one eye blinked open and she winced as blinding white filled her vision.

"Speak of the devil."

The one-eyed girl pulled herself upright, blinking and squinting until her vision finally adjusted. The room was typical of the Officio's sickbay; a standard hospital bed, a couch to her right and the door at the far end of the left wall. The tables on either end of the couch were covered with cards, bouquets and what Odette sincerely hoped were boxes of sweets. The couch itself was occupied by the retired Vindicare only known as the Russian, polishing her rifle with a rag. Her wife, the Bartender, fiddled with medical equipment to the left of the bed, dressed in what appeared to be a light pink nurse's outfit, complete with a little cap. Finally, at the end of the bed sat Lotte Laufson, stroking a white blob in her lap that the former Warmaster could only assume was the Seventeenth incubator.

Odette rubbed her one eye and let out a long yawn. Her brain still hadn't fully shifted into gear as she greeted the room with a simple, "Mornin' guys."

All eyes suddenly shifted to the one-eyed girl - even those of the moustachioed incubator. A moment passed in silence. Then another, and another after that.

"So, uh," the former warmaster started, "can anyone maybe get me some juice or something?"

Everything seemed to speed up the instant she stopped speaking. It was as if time had stopped for a few precious seconds and was suddenly trying to catch up to where it should have been. The blonde at the edge of the bed burst into tears, launching the incubator off of her lap as she embraced Odette in a smothering hug. The one-eyed girl's vision went dark as her face was abruptly swallowed by a soft and pillowy sensation.

"She is wearing because it is making her look cute!" The Russian interrupted, rising from her seat to step over to her partner and plant a kiss on the redhead's cheek. "Is okay for her to do the dressing up some times, too! Believe or not, she is still girl on squishy inside parts, even when she makes the grouchy pretends."

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"But," the blonde foreigner added, taking a seat beside Odette, opposite the still-sniffling Callidus, "do not be mistake. Your big sisters did much worrying. It is good to see you safe, malenkaya." She punctuated the statement by ruffling the smaller girl's white hair and planting a motherly kiss atop her head - forcing Odette to turn her head away bashfully.

"I, um," the former warmaster mumbled, trying to regain her words. "Th-thanks, everyone. This, uh, this really means a lot. I didn't... I didn't think-"

The Russian snapped her gaze to the redhead and made a "Tsh!" noise to silence her wife.

"I guess I didn't really think people would miss me all that much," Odette concluded, almost whispering as she reached the end of her statement. She gave a last sheepish shrug as her eye shifted between the three girls in the room, unsure of who exactly to address. "I'm... I'm sorry, guys."

"Stupid!" Lotte cried out again, pounding the silver-haired girl's chest with her fist - all without lifting her head.

"What she said," the Bartender muttered, smirking.

"Yes, yes, you are two of the same kind," the Russian laughed as she rose from her seat, hooking her finger under the redhead's short sleave. "For now we will leave the little ones. You must return uniform to supply closet, yes?"

"But they don't keep them in the- Oh," the Bartender paused as a grin slowly crept across her face. "Ooooh, yeah. Yeah. Definitely gotta return it. To the supply closet."

"Yes, dorogaya," the blonde sighed. "Subtlety is not strongest suit, is known. Now come."

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With that, the couple disappeared through the door, leaving Odette alone with the Callidus who had found her way into the former Warmaster's arms. Her mind was still clouded in a painkiller-induced haze - even the edges of her vision seemed a bit fuzzier than normal. The last thing that she could remember was leaving the cottage in the woods. Everything else melded together in one big blur that seemed to waver between dream and reality. She could pick out bits and pieces, but couldn't entirely make sense of them. Odette could swear that it was none other than the white Culexus herself that had driven her back. Then there were the images that didn't seem to match up with anything. A pastel shade of pink. A pair of jagged, crystalline talons coloured with the dusky crimson of dried blood. A ragged, empty eye-socket. And gold - something about gold that seemed to invade every dark crevice of her mind.

The silver-haired girl's brief musings were interrupted as Lotte began to stir once more, turning her face up to look Odette in the eye.

"Hey," she muttered, red-eyed and sniffling.

"Hey," Odette greeted her in return, smiling gently.

"Ah, erm, excuse me," a Fubey added, rolling out from under the hospital bed. "I apologize, but I believe we agreed that I would be allowed to speak with Odette first, Miss Laufson."

The blonde groaned as she seemed to slither off of the bed. "Yeah, yeah. You won," she grumbled. "I'll see you in a bit, O."

Odette waved as the Callidus stepped out of the room. The incubator balled himself up like a big, fat coiled spring, before launching himself at the edge of the bed. Fubey made it halfway up, his paws out-stretched as he clawed at the sheets, grunting and groaning to heave his entire mass up onto the bed. He placed himself in the one-eyed girl's lap, staring at her with his beady red eyes, his face inexpressive.

"Thank you," Fubey said with the slightest hint of derision. "When you were found, you were extraordinarily close to becoming a witch. It is no small miracle that you were returned to us intact. I look forward to a full debriefing when you are in better condition. Might I ask how you are feeling now?"

Odette looked up and down herself, then replied, "A bit tingly. Pretty tender, but otherwise okay."

"Excellent. When we found you, you were in... rather poor condition, to say the least. Once the ice was removed from the wound in your shoulder, your arm very nearly fell off entirely. While it was a simple matter to heal the injury, you will note that a scar has formed in its place. While I am aware that you detest retaining such blemishes, I was unable to remove it, despite my best efforts."

Odette peered down, hesitantly lifting the light hospital gown away from her chest. There, just below her left shoulder, was a circular scar, no more than an inch across, marring her pale skin exactly where the golden hook had pierced her. It looked, strangely enough, unusually similar to a bullet hole in glass. Odette had always made it a matter of pride to allow any injuries to heal completely, a habit picked up from her predecessor. 'Scars are for magical girls with something to prove,' as Brie had always told her.

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"But, I take it you are not feeling any mental side effects?" Fubey asked.

"I don't think so," the one-eyed girl responded, blinking. "Why?"

"Good, good," the incubator nodded. "When you were found, you were clutching a set of golden chains and hooks rather tightly. I assume they were the ones mentioned in Mister Rossi's account. According to Miss Laufson, you were also repeating some phrase involving 'angels'. You have no recollection of this?"

Odette shook her head. "Nope. After I left the cabin, everything's kind of hazy. I didn't even know I brought those things with me."

"Interesting," Fubey nodded again. "As I said, you were holding onto them rather tightly. Regrettably, the Russian was forced to break some of your fingers to remove them."

"Ah..." The one-eyed girl muttered.

"Yes... I may still schedule you for a class two psychological evaluation, just to be sure," the incubator continued. "The hooks have been placed in our maximum security vault until we can determine whether or not they possess any anomalous properties. Currently, only yourself and the Warmaster have been given clearance to handle them. Miss Corbin has been assigned to investigate any previous reports of such weapons from my brothers. It had been brought to my attention earlier, but the reports seemed irrelevant at the time."

"And what'shername?" Odette asked. "The little shit?"

"Miss Vance?"

"That's the one. I brought her gem back, right?"

"Indeed, you did. She has been placed in holding cell nine-oh-one," Fubey answered. "I would suggest interrogating her prior to your debriefing. She is to be detained indefinitely until we are confident that she can provide no further useful information."

"The ninth circle?" Odette asked with a devilish grin. "Thought you would have decomissioned that place by now."

"They are still perfectly adequate silent rooms, despite their secondary function being inoperable."

Prose Magica: Ballad of the Seventeenth Part 14archivalfag11/13/13(Wed)14:49No.28270484

"Yes," the incubator agreed, his voice seeming to trail off, "until now. I am quite pleased with your handling of this assignment, Odette. Your behaviour has, for the most part, been exemplary. I look forward to utilising your talents once more, assuming you are willing."

"It'll be good to be back, if you'll still take me."

"As I said," Fubey replied, "it would be an honour to see you return to service. You will be pleased to know that Miss Bernard has made a full recovery. I believe she wished to speak to you about her father's funeral. The only matter remaining is that of a recent amendment to the Officio's contracts. Due to the incident with Miss Vance, I have deemed it prudent to add a remote observation clause. With respect to your privacy, I have not amended your own contract as of yet. All of the girls have been given until the end of the month to report in. Should you miss the deadline for any reason - barring anything too extreme - your supply of grief seeds shall be cut off until I am able to perform the amendment. Is this agreeable?"

"Guess so," the one-eyed girl shrugged. "Seems to work just fine for the others."

"Wonderful. I believe that will be all then?"

"Yeah," Odette nodded, trying to think of any unresolved matters, "yeah, I think that's it. If I'm gonna be running combat missions again, I've got a bit of a shopping list for Holly. Just a few things that would have come in handy earlier."

"I will see to it that you get what you need. I believe we have kept Miss Laufson waiting long enough, then. Good afternoon, Odette."

With his peace said, the incubator leapt off of the bed and disappeared beneath it. After a moment, a dull whirring was heard as Fubey pulled out, riding atop his roomba steed. One arm of his prehensile moustache seemed to extend unnaturally as he made his way to the door, using it to grasp the knob. Just as the incubator was about to open the door, Odette called out to him once more.

The incubator froze in place, the hand of his moustache still resting on the door knob.

"One day of good does not make up for two years of wrong, Odette," Fubey replied, slowly turning his head to look the former Warmaster in the eye, "but, it is certainly a start. I look forward to our next meeting."

Odette watched as the incubator rode out of the room, smiling at the absurdity of the sight. After several moments, Lotte stepped back into the room, this time wearing a pink nurse's uniform, near identical to that worn by the Bartender. Her eyes were still noticeably puffy and red - though, the flow of tears had finally been stymied. The Callidus made her way to the top of the bed, her stride lacking its usual enticing swagger. The one-eyed girl shifted over, making room for the blonde to take a seat by her side and allowing her to hold one of Odette's pale, dainty hands.

Lotte glanced nervously at the former Warmaster and held her hand tightly, as if fearing that she would disappear at any moment. "So, um," she said, "how are you feeling?"

"Huh," Lotte muttered, tilting her head to look at it. "Weird. So... what happened?"

"Not really sure," Odette replied, shrugging. "I slipped up at the mansion, next thing I know the little shit's got me strung up in the woods like a slab of meat. Don't remember much of it. Just that I woke up feeling... refreshed, I guess. Like, suddenly I've got some kind of," the one-eyed girl waved her fingers through the air, trying to find the right words, "inner harmony or something like that."

"Ah, well," Lotte murmured as her breath caught in her throat. Her hands fidgeted, holding onto Odette's one hand even more tightly. "It's just- A-actually, maybe now's not the best time, anyways, y'know? It can wait until you're better a-and-"

"Lotte..."

"It's nothing. I just-"

"Lotte."

The Callidus bit her lip and groaned, almost bringing herself to tears once again. "God, fine. It's just... I was wondering if maybe, y'know, since you've got this new lease on life and everything, maybe you might want to... retire. Together. With me."

"Ah..." Odette's voice trailed off. She couldn't quite think of exactly what to say to the blonde sitting at her side.

"I- I mean, we've both been doing this for a while, right? You're going on to seven years, I'm almost at six. Maybe we could find a nice quiet place... You could do your poetry or whatever. A-and, y'know, Red and the Rusky, they, uh, they were a couple years younger than us when they retired, right? I just thought, I don't know-"

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"Lotte," Odette smiled gently, squeezing the Callidus' hand. "I, um, I'm grateful for the offer. I am. Really. But, I was kind of planning to get back into the game. I already told the boss that I would, anyway. I was even thinking that I might put my name in for Equerry, assuming Therese didn't settle on that shitstain Argente."

"Oh..."

"I just," the one-eyed girl shrugged, not quite able to look Lotte in the eye, "I don't want to be like some of the other Warmasters. I don't want to let myself just fade off into obscurity and be remembered for being a screw up. I know I'm not what Brie hoped for, but I can at least try to fix my mistakes."

Lotte nodded silently. She didn't dare stop looking at the hand she was holding. She couldn't let Odette see her crying again. "Yeah," she muttered, voice strained. "Yeah, I understand. I should... I should probably g-"

As she was about to stand, Lotte felt Odette squeeze her hand once more, holding her back.

"Hold up, I'm not done yet," the former Warmaster stated. "I appreciate the offer, and... I'm sorry I can't take you up on it, but... maybe we can compromise a bit?"

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Lotte blinked, her attention snapping to the other girl against her will. "What?"

"I was just thinking that, y'know," Odette started, rocking her head back and forth as she tried to find the right words, "my apartment got trashed and it was a bit of a shithole to begin with. I heard the building might have bedbugs, too. And there's this one outlet that doesn't work and the super won't return my calls and basically what I'm trying to say is... If you're cool with it, maybe I can stay with you for, say, the indefinite future?"

"You," the Callidus muttered, her eyes widening in disbelief, "you want to move in with me?"

"I guess that would be a better way of putting it, yeah. Assuming you want some washed up deadbeat like me hanging around."

Therese Witton drummed her fingers on her desk, anxiously swaying back and forth in her chair. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of the black Warmaster's cap sitting at the corner of her desk. Over the past week, she had felt more like a Warmaster than at any point in her two plus months of office. There was no one to hold her hand, to pick up the pieces if she screwed up. It suddenly seemed so real. It was exhilirating.

"Warmaster," Holly called out over the intercom.

Therese glanced over, only offering a quizical, "Hm?"

"Odette's woken up, if you want to go see her."

"Oh, yeah," the Warmaster answered. "Yeah, I will in a bit."

The intercom was silent for a moment before Holly's voice came through again. "Everything alright?"

Following the distinctive click of the Vanus disconnecting, Therese leaned back in her chair let out a sigh of relief, tilting her head back as far as it would go. It had seemed so real. Yet, as soon as Odette returned, that old feeling came crashing back to her like being shaken out of a dream. That hollow, oppressive feeling that she was nothing more than a substitute, keeping the seat warm until Odette was ready to take the position back.

She was relieved, of course. How could she not be? The person who had taught Therese everything she knew was safe. Her mentor, her comrade, her friend. Which was why it made her sick to her stomach to know that deep down, in a part of her that she didn't want to admit existed, she was disappointed to see Odette return.

We boarded the Osprey in our neural underlayer, a black, skintight bodysuit that acted as an interface with our battle armor. I kept my mouth shut - Linde had explained we wouldn't be using our normal powered armor. Jyuro had seen fit to outfit us with something called 'Cadre' armor, a term which, when he mentioned it, caused my normally unflappable squad leader to sit bolt upright in her chair, jaw working soundlessly. She had remained silent ever since, and as we stepped up the ramp, she moved woodenly to one of the huge, sleek pods in the Osprey's bay. There were four of them, one for each of us, I surmised. Linde palmed a scanner on hers, and the pod cracked open with a hiss. My eyes widened, and I heard a quiet gasp from Rev.Inside the pod was a suit of armor unlike any I'd ever seen. Our normal Mark IV PCA suits were rough, angular things, an amalgamation of armor plates and black ballistic material designed to protect vital areas and allow for maximum survivability. They weren’t perfect, but they did their job well. These suits on the other hand…Everything about them sang of death. The sleek, smooth joints, the seamless helmet, the way the matte black coating seemed to suck in all light that touched it were a paean to swift, efficient destruction. I could take on an army with one of these.Linde's hand clenched and unclenched. I filed the gesture away for later, and strapped myself into my crash webbing. Sonja sat beside me, with Rev and Linde opposite us. The pitched whine of the rotors rose with a deep, throaty roar, and the assault ramp closed as the Osprey took wing.Sonja broke the squad's silence. "I don't remember seeing those in the Armory."Linde shook her head. "These are from before your time. We don't use them much anymore.""Why?" Rev grimaced. "Mostly because these are the only four left. The Sixteenth used to field dozens."

>>28270591I raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"Our red-haired XO clammed up completely. Linde's expression was dark."The single greatest loss of life in the history of the XVI. Shadow Moses."I cocked my head. "Never heard of it.""I'm not surprised. It's not...talked about. But you may as well know the history of the armor you're about to inherit."---"Mauser, Winchester, this is Rifle Actual. Coming up on the IP in T-minus ten mikes. All Rifles, prepare for deployment."Winchester Two-Five made yet another futile attempt to school her nerves into some semblance of control. She stood fifth in line with her squad, Winchester Two, beside a row of drop pods. The heavily-stealthed C-5 Galaxy - second of a flight of four - shuddered as it hit a patch of particularly nasty turbulence, sending yet another jolt through her stomach. A friendly hand slapped her shoulder from behind."I know this is your first combat drop, Linde. Trust me, you're not feeling anything all of the rest of us felt on our first deployment. You're gonna be fine." Winchester Two-One, a tall, sinewy black-haired girl who reveled in the painfully Irish name of Alicia Deirdre DeVries, had a warm, pleasant contralto that eased the knot in the rookie's stomach.Linde Van Dyke didn't turn, but briefly covered DeVries' hand with her own. It was purely symbolic, of course - human contact and Cadre battle armor were mutually exclusive - but it made her feel better.Alicia closed the private channel, and opened the squad-wide com. "You heard the Old Lady, Winchesters. Check your gear, check your wing's seals, and harness up." Linde's HUD showed no problems with her armor, but she ran through a systems check regardless. Her battle rifle responded perfectly, sensors and synth-link green across the board, pharmacope dosage full and ready. Her eyes lingered on the last, specifically a single chemical compound labelled with a red "T."

>>28270603"Linde! Focus. Give me a seal check." DeVries' voice snapped her back to awareness, and she checked her squad leader's telltales while DeVries did the same. She'd been assigned as Alicia's wing for the operation because she'd had no time to integrate into the unit - it fell to her to watch her squad leader's back, so DeVries could focus on running Winchester Two's part of the operation.Linde slapped Alicia's shoulder, indicating good seal, and stepped sideways into her drop harness. The bulky unit locked into a series of hardpoints on her armor, and Linde took a deep, shuddering breath. There. Now she was committed. No backing out now.The com crackled again, and Warmaster Artemis Ketia's voice came through her helmet's speakers. "All Rifles, this is Rifle Actual. Let's hit the high points one last time. Your objective is a complex roughly forty kilometers north of your drop point. Intel doesn't know what it is, or who it belongs to, but they know it's important. We may be looking at a facility run by another Officio, so stay alert. As far as we know, they don't know we're coming. Keep it that way as long as you can. If the defecation hits the oscillation, you're on your own until we can mobilize conventional assets to support you, so keep it clean. Good luck, and godspeed. Rifle out."Alicia began making final pre-drop checks on the rest of Winchester Two, but Linde heard only a blur of sound. Her mouth was dry; she swallowed. Still dry. She closed her eyes and waited.After a subjective eternity, the drop klaxon blared, and the massive transport shuddered as the first wave of Puella Magi dropped from the launch bay. Linde was fifth in line, and her stomach spasmed as the girl in front of her - Winchester Two-Four, Obaseki Osayaba - dropped into the night. A very large, very angry mule kicked her squarely between the shoulderblades.

>>28270612Linde had a cannonball's-eye view of the world as the magnetic rail on which her pod was mounted fired her directly at the ground at precisely 425 miles per hour. Her armor's inertial dampeners absorbed most of the shock, and Linde barely suppressed a whoop as her adrenaline spiked. ----The impact with the ground should have, by all rights, turned the entirety of Winchester Two into a fine layer of red jelly. At fifty feet from the icy ground, however, the squad's drop pods each fired a set of quick-burning rocket engines mounted in their bases, so that when Alicia DeVries' pod slammed into the ice, she barely had to bend her legs to absorb the impact. The front hatch blew off as explosive bolts detonated, and Alicia sprang free of her harness, going immediately to ground.She keyed her mic. "Rifle, Winchester Two-One. Winchester Two is on the ground. I say again, Winchester Two is boots on the ground.""Solid copy, Winchester. Proceed to objective. Rifle out."The rest of her squad loped down the hillside towards her. Their dispersal pattern on the drop had been nearly perfect, almost precisely one hundred meters separated each trooper. Winchester One, as well as Mauser One and Two, had touched down nearby as well, and the four units advanced toward their objective in a staggered line. So far, it seemed they'd caught the enemy napping."I don't know what all the fuss is about, honestly." Astrid Nordbo, Winchester Two-Two and Alicia's XO, spoke on the squad-wide channel. "I mean, it's just a research facility. I don't understand why this warranted the deployment of the ENTIRE Officio, and why we're being so bloody-"Nordbo's voice chopped off with a gasp as missile contrails erupted from hidden launch sites along both sides of the valley. Alicia keyed her mic, and shouted the words nobody wanted to hear."SAM launch! SAM launch!" ----4/11

Forty-thousand feet overhead, Winchester Two-One's alert was received with swift, consummate professionalism. The sixteen transport planes dumped chaff and IR flares and went as evasive as they could, while the two modified Boeing 737s escorting them lit off their ECM. It was beautifully executed. It was an intricate, precise dance, as the pilots threw their planes into maneuvers the aircraft had no right to be doing. Ultimately, however, it was futile.The missiles streaking toward the transports were not used by any army in the world. They were absolute bleeding-edge, and they navigated the countermeasures like no missile should have been able to. Even then, the Magical Girls aboard each transport would likely have survived a hit from a normal SAM, unless the missile struck their Soul Gem directly. These missiles, however, had been designed with Magical Girls specifically in mind. As the thermobaric warheads detonated against the unarmored skins of the transports, many of their occupants didn't even have time to scream.----Linde Van Dyke bit off a curse as the SAMs detonated amongst the transports. The huge, lumbering aircraft were ideal for transportation and deployment, but they were also very, very slow to turn. Eight missiles found their mark, and flaming debris rained from the sky. Mixed in with the flaming pieces of aircraft were flaming pieces of her comrades - Colt and Mosin hadn't deployed before the missiles launched."Come on, come on! We have to clear the drop zone, they'll have us zeroed in -" Winchester Two-Three, Alexandra Filipov, was thrown from her feet as the world exploded behind her. Shells began to rain from the sky exploding amongst the troopers.5/11

"FUCK! Mortars! Move it, People!" DeVries's voice galvanized Linde, and she pulled Filipov to her feet, supporting the girl with her shoulder as the pair ran from the bombardment zone. "Astrid! Find the spotter!"

"Got him lit, Alley! Reference right side ridge!""Five, take him out!"Linde took a breath and closed her eyes. Her cerebral implant projected the feed from her armor's sensors into her retinas, showing the artillery spotter highlighted bright red against the trees along the ridge. She thumbed a mental switch, and her suit's integrated, shoulder-mounted battle rifle swiveled on its servos with viperish speed. A crosshair superimposed itself on her 'vision,' appearing over the spotter. Another mental twitch, and a crisp, precise, three-round burst of subcaliber discarding-sabot penetrator rounds punctured the man's helmet."Good shooting, Five."Linde nodded.The operation channel opened, and Artemis Ketia's shell-shocked voice came through. "All Rifles, Rifle Actual. Break contact and go to ground. We're working on an evac-""Belay that." There was a nearly audible intake of breath. Jyuro, Incubator of the XVI, continued. "You will push forward toward the objective."There was a pregnant pause. Ketia's voice, when it returned, was tightly controlled. "With all due respect, Sir, my people just lost almost half their numbers in a matter of seconds. We have no idea what we'd be sending them into if we push forward. We need to-""We can do it." Alicia's quiet interruption stopped her Warmaster cold.Ketia's response was very quiet. "Think about what you're saying, Alley. We have no idea what you're up against down there, but whatever it is, it's a hell of a lot more than we expected.""Par for the course, Warmaster. When aren't we outnumbered and outgunned?"There was a long pause, before the Warmaster eventually sighed. "You're the commander on the spot, Alley. It's your call."6/11

>>28270681"I'm the what?"Jyuro again cut in. "The Warmaster is correct. You are the senior surviving member of the strike force."

Alicia blew out a breath. "Then yes. Yes, we'll do it.""Godspeed, then. And good luck. Rifle out."----Several hours later, Linde lay on her stomach beside DeVries, as her commander surveyed the bunker complex before them. Their being prone probably wasn't strictly necessary - Cadre armor had unparalleled stealth capability, and was all but invisible to the naked eye with its refractor field engaged - but DeVries was taking no chances.

"We'll have to go through it." The older girl sounded resigned, and slightly numb. "If we go around, they'll just airlift them in front of us again."Linde studied her tactical map. The bunker was exactly where The Book said it should be, on a low rise in the middle of the valley, blocking any attempt to bypass it. Under normal circumstances, such an installation would be a non-issue.Unfortunately, these circumstances were anything but normal. Of the hundred Magical Girls of the XVI, only fifty-three were still with DeVries. Forty had been lost to the SAM barrage, and seven more were killed by artillery or ambushes over the past several hours. Now, with a mere five kilometers from their objective, the surviving girls of the Sixteenth were stalled. Linde let her eyes scan across the map, then focused. "Alley? You seeing this?" She dropped a marker on the map.

DeVries was silent for a moment. "Yes. Yes I am." Her voice regained some of its life. "It strikes me that whoever put that bunker has a better mind for strategy than tactics.""Oh? How's that?"Beneath her helmet, Alicia DeVries grinned like a shark. "Otherwise, he'd never have overlooked THIS."----7/11

The Sixteenth Officio had long had a policy of disallowing the unregulated use of magic amongst its girls. This applied both to everyday life, and to missions. In order to compensate, Jyuro instead commissioned powered armor from the Fourth, designed to be the most advanced made at the time. This armor did much to make up for the girls’ non-use of their powers.The Tick did the rest.Of all the secrets Jyuro held, the Tick was among the most jealously-guarded. None of the girls knew where he got it, or how it was made, or even what was in it. What they did know was that it worked.When the chemical cocktail was released into the bloodstream, it accelerated the user’s thought processes by an incredible margin. Every twitch, every movement could be carefully considered, measured, and executed precisely as the user intended it to be. Linde had once seen a pair of Officio girls sparring while riding the Tick; both moved with incredible speed, yet unerring precision. Each bout ended in a draw, as both combatants had ample time to recognize their opponent’s next move and compensate accordingly. Essentially, the Tick gave a soldier a gracious plenty of the most valuable commodity on the battlefield: time.

Thus it was that the soldier who stood watch over a certain part of the bunker’s outer fortifications, alert and ready in his powered armor, never had a chance when Alicia DeVries rose out of a fold in the ground before him. He was good, very good, in fact, trained and experienced to the pinnacle of skill.But Alicia was riding the Tick.Alicia watched as the man ever-so-slowly brought his rifle to his shoulder. She floated in a daze as her body vaulted the low wall, and her hands gripped the rifle’s barrel. She saw the leg sweep coming a subjective thirty seconds before it arrived, and had already leapt over it, bearing the soldier down on his back and cutting his throat with her combat knife. 8/11

She watched her tactical map as the survivors of the Sixteenth surged out of that same fold in the ground, the one the area’s commander had overlooked when placing the bunker. The one that took the girls directly to the wall, without ever coming into sight of the guards.The girls ghosted silently into the bunker, quietly killing any unfortunate soldier they came across. They were in their element - this is what they did. Eventually, one man looked up at exactly the wrong moment, and managed to snap off a shot before Astrid’s blade bisected his gun, then his head. The now-alerted soldiers turned to face the girls who’d somehow managed to infiltrate the bunker, and pandemonium ensued. Battle rifles flamed on full automatic, men and Magical Girls cursed and fired and died.Linde ran past open doors, the speed of the Tick giving her time to target each unprepared individual within each room, putting a burst into every head as she passed the door frame. A subjective hour, and thirty seconds of real-time, later, the fighting was over. The girls of the Sixteenth left the bunker behind as quickly and quietly as they’d come. Behind them, over seventy-five power-armored soldiers - and four of their own - lay cooling in the night.----Even Alicia was getting jumpy. Ever since they’d left the bunker behind, the girls of Rifle hadn’t encountered any sign of resistance. After the constant, harrying attacks of the previous hours, the sudden, unexplained silence set everyone on edge.Alicia and Linde were once again belly-down on a low ridge, this time scanning the target compound itself. There was no sign of movement on, or outside the walls. No lights shone within, either, lending the whole place an eerie, desolate air.Alicia stood. “Alright, People, move in. Twenty meter spread, and keep your eyes open. We’ve lost too many already tonight - I don’t want to lose any more.”9/11

>>28270735The last forty-nine girls of the Sixteenth Officio Assassinorum moved as one down the rise toward the gates of the compound. As they reached the base of the hill, a single, slight figure stepped out. Linde’s battle rifle tracked her, but Alicia threw up a hand.“Hold fire!”The girl stopped in front of the gates. The moonlight gleamed off a gold-tipped staff of some sort, and set off highlights in her light-brown hair. Her white-and-blue costume, coupled with her weapon, identified her as a Magical Girl.She bowed slightly. “Hello. I appreciate the effort you’ve all made to get here, but I need you to leave. Now.” Her voice was pleasant, even friendly - but there was a note of steel beneath.Alicia pulled her helmet off, and regarded the girl across the snowy field. “If you know how hard we’ve fought, you know how many we’ve lost.” The girl nodded, sadly. “Then you know I can’t let their sacrifices be in vain.”“You won’t retreat, then?”“I’m afraid not. Now stand aside.”The girl shook her head. “I cannot.”Alicia pulled her helmet back on. “Then I apologize for the necessity.”“As do I.” The girl lowered her staff, pointing toward Alicia. Something on the shaft moved, like the bolt of a rifle, and a series of pink rings appeared around the staff.Alicia had had enough. “Open fire!”“Divine Buster.”The world went black.--------10/11

I sat back in the seat. “Jesus Christ, Linde. What the hell happened?”Linde grimaced. “Apparently, Alicia tackled me just before the blast hit. I don’t remember any of it. I woke up in Medical a week later. They had to regenerate half my body.”“And the others?” Sonja’s voice was quiet, fragile. Linde didn’t respond. She just bowed her head.The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Touchdown in five. Welcome to Big Shell.”Linde looked up. “Anyway. All that to say, that’s the legacy you carry when you wear this armor. The Cadre does not retreat, nor does it surrender. We complete the mission, at any cost.”We finished the flight in silence.